


Sole Surround

by pendragonfics



Category: Divergent - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rated Mature bc Reader Says A Swear Word, Requited Love, Sketches, Tattoos, no pronouns used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: The story how Eric got his arm tatsORhow you accidently score a date with your fave badass Dauntless leader.





	Sole Surround

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic after listening to [_Say My Name_](https://open.spotify.com/track/0wSJeDntuftBpsyhRSzZoW?si=vIyU9IxXT4KR8Wa4qME-ig) by Peking Duk on repeat, as well as a touch of [_Style_](https://open.spotify.com/track/7akT9byQsktEwWGHyLeSPs?si=4bDNHcJ2S6K7j7sHY39m9w) by Foster The People. What can I say? Those songs gave me major Eric vibes.
> 
> p.s. the title? a lyric from the Peking song.

A better part of working with Tori Wu at the shop was the people who’d come in. Fresh Dauntless picking their first ink, knowing people by name who’d come in regularly for pictures under their skin, the art you’d design. And while you were sure your co-workers liked their job for the other parts to it, you had one particular, specific reason. He was a leader, and, his name was Eric.

If it weren’t for the fact that the pair of you came in the same initiation ceremony, you’d be sure that he wouldn’t know you existed. But seeing as you came second to his first place, often battling for a place in the black-clad faction, he knew your name. However, while he worked with a gun, patrolling the factions, you had a gun with needles, inking the skin of your own faction.

“If only you didn’t squander your potential,” he greeted, walking in.

Eric had a cockiness to him that made you wonder if he thought the world bent to his knee. While most others, Four included, did not bend, you were more than happy to.

“Says the guy with a stick up his ass,” you retort with a smile, gesturing to the chair. “Take a seat, Coulter.”

He takes his time, even though your time was a commodity. But if he was willing to spend it, you wouldn’t tax the man for lingering in your presence. Hell, if he wasn’t with his head up alongside that stick, he’d notice that you’d had feelings for him since he barrelled into you on the Dauntless roof after the Choosing Ceremony.

Finally taking a seat, you turn to him, catching his eyes. They’re devastatingly handsome, just like him.

“After some more block-black work?” you roll up your sleeves.

Turning to the bench, you snap on a pair of gloves, expecting a grunt of agreement. He’d come to you for his neck tats, and if you were someone to gloat, you’d say that they turned out _excellent._ But you were biased. You’d bang him with or without ink.

“I saw Max’s new art. That was you, right?” he asked.

You nod, glad someone saw your design. “He wanted something symbolic.”

Eric smirked. “I’m no artist, but -,” from his pocket, he withdrew a paper. Unfolding, you saw a mock-up penned with graphite. “Had a go at what I’d like.”

Tilting the art, you look between his scribble and arms, you beam. “I have the perfect place in mind for this.” You reply, turning to your sketchbook. It was starting to get full, especially since you’d been using the same thing since you started as Tori’s apprentice. “It’s like, a map? Of Dauntless, the tunnels?”

“Good eye.”

“And while you shoot to kill, I make designs to kill.” You mutter, sketching as fast as your wrist could let you. “…and before you tell me that I’d be better on patrol with your team, remember who gave you half your ink.”

“Touché.”

“If you don’t want any changes to this design,” you hand over the notepad, turning to the shelves beside where you sit, looking for the transfer paper and your lucky pen, “ - I’m sure I can get it sketched out pretty quick today.”

“Looks good,” he replied.

It was the fact that his words weren’t inciting any comebacks that made you wonder. You’d never heard of Eric ever having something _nice_ to say at all, in all the time that you’d been around each other. Back in training, he’d knock you on your ass time and time again. When you did his neck tats, he’d wanted it ‘ _slightly to the left_ ’ and made you trace all over again.

“Did I just hear _the_ Eric Coulter accept something _as is_?” you tease, smiling to yourself. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

But when you look up, you see that he hasn’t heard a word of what you were saying. Most likely because he’s flicking through your notebook, his calloused hands treating the paper pages like they’re delicate, soft. If it were any other book, you’d take a second to relish being privy to a softer moment of the man’s life. But it’s your art book. Every sketch you’d ever done. Even _private_ ones.

“ _Hey_!” you yelp, shooting toward him. “Don’t -,”

But he held it away, intently looking at a page. Your eyes bug out because you know exactly which drawing it is. It was a really slow day at the shop, back when you had to bust ass to make a buck around the place. Tori did most of Eric’s earlier art; you weren’t sure if he was in for his back or shoulder pieces, but it was the day you sketched him out, laying under shiny LED light like a cat basking in brilliant sunlight.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” you say. You can’t bring yourself to meet Eric’s eyes. If you did, you’d see the look in them, the slant to his strong shoulders.

The pause before he speaks.

“Why would I?” he speaks with his usual ease, but…careful. He hands you the notebook back and tucking it away, you meet his gaze. “Seems like we feel the same way.”

You’re about to retort, but Tori makes her way into your space of the store. She leans; her long hair in her face, swaying. “You man the shop for a bit, I’m grabbing a bite.” She tells you, oblivious to you and the situation. “Want me to grab some food for you, or…?”

“No thanks,” you say, quickly.

As soon as Tori’s out of earshot, you look back to Eric. He’s got one of his smiles plastered upon his face, and the aura of cockiness he’s emanating alone has you wanting to knock it off with your fists, or your own mouth. You’re not sure which one, to be honest.

“So?” he prompts.

You go back to sketching the stencil, ignoring the growing annoyance of your lack of reply. Eric was such a meathead sometimes. But that was why you liked him.

“How about this fresh ink, then you and I take a walk, grab some coffee.” You look up from your sketch to his waiting eyes. “Maybe fuck afterwards?”

Eric’s barking laugh is softened by his grin. “Girl after my own heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
